


Afterlife

by charlottefrey



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 09:12:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1813087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlottefrey/pseuds/charlottefrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo dies on his journey to the Undying Lands and wakes in a place, who looks a lot like Erebor, but somehow also doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afterlife

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this right after i downloaded the Hobbit soundtrack *-*

Bilbo smiled. He had wanted to reach the end of their journey, but now he saw, that this wish wasn’t granted.

   “Frodo, don’t worry. You will be cared for.” The pale, sad face of his cousin looked down on him. Beside him, Elrond looked down on his old friend, sorrow in his eye, though his face was unmoved.

   “Farewell, Bilbo Baggins.” He said, while he laid one hand on Frodo’s shoulder. Together they watched the old hobbit depart.

 

 

When Bilbo opened his eyes again, he saw a cave. The cave looked like the place he used to sleep in, back then in Erebor, right after the Battle of the Five Armies. He felt the pain stabbing through his chest and he mewled. Thorin, Fili and Kili were lost on that day. Balin and Ori had died years later in Moria. Sweet Ori, who was never that adventurous had left the safe mountain to reclaim the Halls of Durin. Why did this place look just like the Lonely Mountain? He died miles and miles from the last island and found himself now here? When he rose, he saw, that the room wasn’t entirely like the one he slept in. The blankest were green instead of blue. Thorin’s ragged coat was missing, the only item, Bilbo had taken back to Hobbiton, which reminded him of Thorin.

He flinched at the memory od those lonely evenings sitting around the fire, holding Thorin’s most worn clothing, sobbing into the old fur. His feet hit the floor and it was to his surprise warm and relaxing. Still a bit sleepy, he stumbled out of the door. Instead of entering the Royal’s Bedroom, he found himself standing in a long, empty corridor. He saw the slight shimmer of light at one end. Hesitating, he left the room completely. When he turned around, he found only hard, unforgiving stone. Irritated, he walked towards the light, keeping close to the wall. Every second step, he turned around, checking his surroundings.

The light came from torches hanging from the walls. Still uneasy, Bilbo walked past the flickering flames and soon came to a big door, tall like a mountain troll and made of old wood. It was barely closed. Bilbo peeped through and saw long tables with lots and lots of dwarves. They seemed to eat and celebrate. When Bilbo moved his eyes to the middle of the room, he saw thrones. Not only one, but hundreds. The biggest, towering all other, was old and the dwarf sitting in it was unfamiliar to Bilbo. Seven stars were engraved on the stone behind his head, shining like real stars. But something reminded him. Those eyes. Even through the distant of over ninety feet, Bilbo recognized those eyes. Cool, steady, but friendly in a very specific way. The way the dwarf held himself was majestic, but not arrogant.

Bilbo looked into the faces of the dwarrow surrounding this king, because a king he had to be. Familiar, all of them. Eyes, nose and the strength of their body. Then his eyes laid themselves on a white haired dwarf with massive ornaments in his beard. He had seen drawings of Thrór, but to see him in real life, if this even was real life, was amazing. His son, dark and brooding beside him. Then a dark haired, gorgeous looking dwarf, Bilbo didn’t knew. But then he realized: The youth and the smile. That was Frerin, the younger brother of Thorin.

Bilbo’s heart clenched, when he looked at the next dwarf. Steely gaze directed on a spot over the crowd’s head, Thorin Oakenshield, Reclaimer of Erebor and Leader of the Company sat there, face plain. The dwarves beside him were Fili and Kili, died young on the battle field, trying to protect their uncle, who had already been dead. Bilbo couldn’t suppress the sob any more. What kind of horrible dream was this? He glanced one last time into the room and saw Ori. Little Ori, died too young and now sat next to his older brothers. The yell formed in his throat and escaped through his parted lips.

Every one stopped eating and all conversations died out.

   “What was this? Did someone arrive? Open the door, he may enter.” Footsteps were audible and the doors opened, revealing the little, crying hobbit to the dwarves in the hall.

   “Bilbo! Can this be?” A plate fell to the ground and shattered on the stone floor, but nobody cared. Knitted gloves brushed away the tears and a warm smile greeted Bilbo.

   “Ori?” He asked weak.

   “Yes, my dear Bilbo. It’s me. Everything’s going to be alright.”

   “No it’s not! I’m supposed to be dead!” Without intending to, Bilbo hit Ori hard.

   “But you are dead.” The dwarf from the big throne stood beside Bilbo. Now the hobbit saw, that the seven stars were hanging around his head like a crown.

   “You are Durin the Deathless.” Durin smiled.

   “Yes, my dear hobbit. And you are a dwarffriend, I assume?”

   “Indeed, your majesty.” The dwarf chuckled.

   “No need to be formal, my dear hobbit.” Fili suddenly ran from his place beside his uncle to Bilbo, Kili on his heels.

   “Bilbo, oh we have missed you.” Suddenly, Bilbo had both Durin brothers around his neck. He was too shocked, to react. Then a tall figure approached.

   “Well, you are indeed my burglar.” When Bilbo looked up and saw into Thorin Oakenshield’s blue eyes, he fainted.

 

 

Bilbo woke to the face of Oin hovering over him.

   “Hello lad.” The old shouted and grinned.

   “Hello Oin. Where’s you brother?”

   “Oh nothing’ bothers me!” Bilbo frowned and saw the red hair, Gloin was famous for.

   “Gloin! I have seen you son recently.” Gloin laughed roaring.

   “Was he fine?”

   “He was in Legolas’ company, so yes.” He heard the dwarf mumbled something about sodding elves.

   “Come out lad. The others wait.” Bilbo rouse and followed the brothers outside. Ori waved at him and he went over to his old friend. Dori, who sat as far from Balin as possible, smiled, when he saw Bilbo, but he was called over by Balin, before he could say hello to his friend.

   “Balin.” When Bilbo grabbed the old dwarf’s hand, he shivered.

   “I am sorry. I couldn’t do anything. No dwarf should be so foolish.” The tears slid over his cheeks and rolled into his beard, sobs shaking the strong body.

   “Everyone can be foolish, don’t worry.”

   “But I do. I took Ori with me and that’s why Dori doesn’t talk to me anymore.” The desperation and sorrow on Balin’s face nearly broke Bilbo’s heart. He laid his small hands on Balin’s shoulders.

   “Balin, son of Fundin. It happened and you cannot change what happened.” But that didn’t stop the tears. Dwalin shook his head.

   “Death tears us apart, even in the Halls of Waiting.”

   “It that, where we are.”

   “Aye.” Dwalin looked also beaten up.

   “Are you fine?”

   “Sometimes. I mean, I got my best friend back, didn’t I?” Dwalin shrugged, but tears glisten in his eyes. Bilbo patted his arm and went over to Dori and Nori.

   “What kind of lie, did he tell you?”

   “Dori, that’s enough!” Nor glared at his brother. “Stop being such a pain in the arse and accept his apologise!” Cautiously, Bilbo took Dori’s hand in his.

   “Balin knows, what he did and I beg you, for the love you have towards your brother and me: Accept his apolgy. We can’t fight about this. If Ori wouldn’t have died in Moria, he would have died somewhere else. And his book saved my nephew and his friends on their quest.” Dori frowned, but nodded. Nori leaned over.

   “Bofur already told us about the quest. Pretty interesting. Can’t wait for Gloin to come and hear it from one part of the fellowship.” He winked and walked away.

   “Where’s Bofur?”

   “Who knows, where Bofur is?” Fili asked, leaning in the door.

   “He could be in the closet in the west temple or in the second bedroom of Peturla the Fierce.” Kili shrugged.

   “By the way, uncle want’s a word with you.”

   “He wants to explain everything and y’know.”

   “And he hasn’t got more patience since he died.”

   “So basically we should hurry.”

   “This is annoying, but they don’t stop with it. Even their mother is powerless against this.” Ori winked. “See you.” The dwarves and the hobbit left. While they walked even more long, plain corridors, Bilbo looked around confused.

   “You’ll get the hang sooner or later.” Kili smiled and they stopped in front of a plain wooden door.

   “There you go. Much fun.” Fili winked and left with Kili. Slowly, Bilbo opened the room and inhaled deeply. It was Thorin’s room in Erebor. Same furniture. Same engraftments. Same armour in the corner beside the fire.

   “Come here Bilbo. I hope, you don’t faint again.” The chuckle was unfamiliar.

   “Thorin.” Bilbo fought tears, when he approached the dwarf in the chair by the fire.

   “I haven’t expected you that late. Hobbits shouldn’t live so long.”

   “How did you know, I would come?” Thorin sighed.

   “Sit down, I will explain everything.” Unsure, Bilbo sat down in the other chair, plush and red.

   “Well. The Halls of Waiting are for the folk of Durin the Deathless. His kin shall wait here, until the end of the world comes. Then we all shall be reborn and rule the new world. Years passed by, Moria was still young and prosper, when one of the many Durin’s decided, to make on of his friends a dwarffriend. A man, who had fought side by side with him in battle. The same night, all dwarves had a dream. Well, rather a vision. Those, they deem worthy and Mahal deems worthy, will be allowed to enter the Halls of Waiting instead of getting reborn in the circle of mortal life.” Thorin glanced over to him.

   “So, when Balin came here…”

   “…he told me, Dáin Ironfoot made you dwarffriend. And to be honest: Despite my hard words…before you departure…I would have done the same. When I came here, mind and soul freed from the spell of gold, I cursed myself. I thought, I would never see you again and after what I did…” Thorin didn’t finish, because he felt the soft hands of Bilbo around his calloused ones.

   “I forgave you the second you died. Even before. I knew, it was the gold talking. I still fell horrible about what I did myself. I should have talked to you properly. All this sorrow, Fili and Kili…you. It wouldn’t have happened.” 

   “A wise, old hobbit once said: _It happened and you cannot change what happened_ ” Thorin smiled and laid a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder.

   “Yes.” Bilbo smiled back. “Any way, why am I so young. I mean I died when I was over one hundred and eleven!”

   “You were named dwarffriend in young years. Therefore you enter the halls of waiting young.” Bilbo looked uneasy. “Still you shouldn’t be so critical. I wouldn’t have wanted to see you as an old man.” Thorin winked and Bilbo frowned.

   “You bloody git!” The hobbit grabbed Thorin’s fur coat and pulled their lips close. “I love you.”

   “I love you too.” Thorin smiled and kissed Bilbo. They stayed in the room, snuggled up against each other, Bilbo’s face buried in Thorin’s coat. But his eyes stayed dry.

**Author's Note:**

> Dwalin is such a sad guy, because i have seen an interview of Graham McTavish, in which he explains, that it would be hard for Dwalin to see his best friend/leader die. After BotFA he didn't pick up any weapon. 
> 
> That Dori is a fucking mother hen, we already know. 
> 
> Bombur and Bifur are still alive, so they don't really appear.


End file.
